


three's company, four's a crowd

by tisapear



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: F/F, Pining, Pre-Slash, tfw you're a terrorist group of four but the conveniently placed time-out benches only seat three 😔
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:35:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25924468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisapear/pseuds/tisapear
Summary: Modern problems require modern solutions. (Or age-old tropes, those work too.)
Relationships: Aerith Gainsborough/Tifa Lockhart
Comments: 6
Kudos: 91





	three's company, four's a crowd

"Nah, you all shoulda sit down. I can stand, I'd just use up the whole thing anyway. With only you three beanpoles sitting there you got more space to spread out and take a breather." Barret's form is imposing in its sheer size. 

"No, no—it's okay, _I'll_ stand. I don't mind, it'll keep me in the fighting momentum." But Tifa, almost coming off as tiny next to Barret, is nothing to scoff at either. Especially when she's set her mind to something. 

Awkward stare-off between two. Awkward silence between everyone else.

Well, almost everyone. 

"Just hurry up and decide already, we don't have all day."

"Cloud!" Tifa immediately stares him down, mister 'I don't give a shit about anyone but myself' who sat down in the middle of the bench without regard for anyone else's need for rest. Reprimand is already hot on her tongue, but fingers pressing against her upper arm stop her, immediately make her swallow her angry words back. Tugs them into the folds under her tongue for later use, eyes turning soft and warm as she looks at Aerith. 

Sweet, gentle Aerith, who's smiling, playful tilt to her pretty pink lips. "Don't be silly," she says, shoos Cloud over with her free hand, who huffs and moans and doesn't dare not sharing just how much effort such a feat would cost him, but who—wonder of all wonders!—actually obliges, takes resident in the far corner, arms petulantly crossed in front of his chest and face all pouty. Next she claps Barret on the back, motions for him to sit down in the middle, Cloud now entirely blocked from Tifa's view.

She catches sight of Nanaki peacefully slumbering under the bench, though, tail lazily swinging back and forth and barely missing the underside of the bench and setting the whole thing on fire. 

She raises her eyebrows at Aerith, question in the movement of her eyelashes, but Aerith merely keeps smiling, that secret one of hers she seems to favor; the one that holds thousands of possibilities, a million _I-know-something-you-dont_ s.

(The one Tifa wants to kiss right off those teasing lips, sometimes. Everytime she looks.)

The pressure on her arm becomes a light but determined grip as Aerith leads her away from the wall she's been leaning against and in front of the bench. Protest bubbles up again, becomes a burning sensation in the back of her throat, because by now she's pretty sure what Aerith's plan boils down to—make them all sit down and leave _her_ as the last one standing, done before they can even comprehend what just happened. It's such an Aerith thing to do, smile at them and charm them and distract them with her sugary-sweet words so they won't realize what she's doing. _I know I'm doing all the hard work here,_ she'll say, _and that you're all depending on me. But it's no good if my trusty minions are all tired out!_ Make it all into one big joke so they won't think twice because that's just what Aerith _does_ , always thinking about everyone else first, _putting_ erveyone else first—

Hands on her shoulders, palms passed flat against the bony knobs, and Aerith pushes her down. She stumbles a step back and barely misses stepping on one of Nanaki's hind legs, and before Tifa knows it, there's a weight in her lap; fairy-light and kitten-warm. Velvet at her chin, tickling the hollow of her throat, pleasant flower-breeze suddenly surrounding her as Aerith looks down at her, a glint in her eyes. Hands carelessly placed on the outside of each of Tifa's bare thighs and legs loosely hooked around Tifa's own, keeping her in place. The sweetest kind of prison; skin against skin and warm fingertips drawing nonsense into her flesh. (A prison, maybe, but one of a kind; one Tifa's not entirely sure she'd be willing to escape even if matters were life or death.)

Aerith pokes and prods at Tifa's arms until she wraps them around Aerith's middle, fingers interlooped in front of her stomach. Back to chest, close enough that Tifa can feel every breath Aerith takes. (Maybe she should hide her face in Aerith's shoulder, just in case. Let all that soft hair tickle her cheeks, tug her nose into her neck to check if she smells that good everywhere—) 

"There," Aerith declairs cheerfully, proud little grin on her face. All wrapped up in Tifa like she's climbing roses overtaking an old throne, and she looks like the queen of the world—like she belongs (like she's right where she wants to be).

Tifa chances a look at the guys, still starry-eyed and a little ouf it, cheeks a girlish rosy, because Aerith's smell is almost making her _dizzy_.

(Saccharine sweetness, tooth-ache temptation—Tifa could just eat her up.)

Barret's grinning at them, laughter evident in his eyes despite the sunglasses, and thinking that he's hidden from view behind Barret's form, even Cloud isn't trying to hide his smile, shy thing that it is. She can even hear Nanaki let out an amused huff, apparently not as asleep as she had assumed.

"That's a pretty good seat you got there, Aerith." Barret's voice is rumbling amusement.

Aerith is beaming. Bright, lively, _lovely_. "The best!"

**Author's Note:**

> useless_lesbian.doc


End file.
